Empty halls of violet hues
by DawnAtSky
Summary: With the fall of the kingdom of Derse, Skaia was now finally complete once more, leaving the dreaded General Vantas to roam the streets of the indigo capital. Peace has reigned for two whole years, but is peace truly what he would call this? And why does this battered lisping scientist look so much like his close friend? Medieval/Fantasystuck. Solkat.
1. Chapter 1

**So hey guys! :3 I just kind of randomly dreamed up this little AU from out of the deep pockets of my mind, so enjoy. Kind of Solkat-ish. Okay, yeah. It's totally a Solkat fic, but there should be other hints to ships hidden in. It started as a one-shot, I just kind of liked this Medieval!Stuck/Fantasy!Stuck AU idea, so there. **

**Prospit and Derse (Yes, it's Humanstuck, and each side has both trolls and Kids included) were at war for years until the Bard's power seized it's destined control over the continent. Suddenly Derse was to wiped off the map, their heroes, and soverenghty, and individualized cultures, all faded into Prospit and the newly former Skai Province. Karkat Vantas, Captain of the knights of Prospit now walks the Derse streets, adjusting to peace, two years after the end of the great war. **

**BASICALLY a slightly modern medievalstuck setting with everyone's dreamselves as humans. If that makes first chapter is in 3rd person, before I changed the writing style a little. I was just too lazy to re-write the first chapter.  
**

**(HintHintHint: Double Sollux. Kind of.)**

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It's been two long years since the end of the brutal war. Prospit had a clear advantage with their Bard, their trump card power, and the controller's will. Yes Prospit was destined for victory. Two years, and after the carapace purge, enlightenment, and the settling of Derse's capital city, there still is strife. Brutal mistreatment of people of all shapes and forms, brilliant men captured and forced into slavery, scientists stolen away for weapons development, not to mention the execution of their king and queen. And yet the purple tinted streets seem all too quiet at this hour. Night has finally fallen, and the time for children wandering the streets in search of their lost parents have passed.

Karkat Vantas had better things to do today than wander around this dark abyss called a city. As the captain of the knights of Prospit, his role and political power ended with the war. He now walks the streets, leading his division to keep the peace, as a designated general of sorts. He strides through the dirty town with polished boots, straight hair and sharp eyes as he spots the horrid scene across the way. Some of his soldiers, too. Pathetic.

As such a high leader in the Prospitian monarchy, his identity must be hidden. He wore a Gray suit, chain mail sufficiently hidden underneath, any and all signs clear from his figure. Burning red eyes peer down as two unnamed soldiers brutally kick at a shivering Dersite civilian. A scientist as he appears to be. They're abusing him, insulting everything from his appearance to the sounds pathetically bubbling from his lips. He earned the knight's pity. Unlike his soldiers, Karkat could really give two shits about who is from where, and who's allegiance falls to whom. If you'rr useful, then so be it.

He doesn't speak a word, but one of the soldiers finally glances back, to finally meet his piercing red eyes. His silence bring the other to cease his actions as well, staring, knowing exactly who is glaring up at him. They don't say a word; they're trained to not speak your identity, for fear of discovering the captain, and one of the most powerful of the Prospitian heroes. After a well hidden, but courteous bow, they were gone.

Oh he would enjoy punishing them later. Assaulting a civilian for no damn reason in the dead of night. Speaking of, the man cringed at the sudden silence, holding his stomach while curled up on the ground still. No bleeding, but his twitching form gave enough of a hint towards how brutally they beat him down. His black hair was messy and covered in dirt, but his eyes were the real spectacle, bright blue, staring up at the man in gray above him.

He let out a soft whimper, glancing around for the soldiers around him. Finally, he sat up, although it took quite a bit more effort than he seemed capable of. He was tall, taller than Karkat at least, and looked familiar actually. Like an old friend back on Prospit he wished you could visit right about now. Seoul Captor, a close friend since birth. Tall and lanky, just like this man, with bright red eyes to match his. The two were often considered relatives. And it might as well be as such, he loved his friend so very much. Seoul was a scientist as well, forced to stay behind in the golden city to care for his team. Their parting was bittersweet, since Derse was to be his new home.

He made a note to visit Seoul as this tall man finally stood, towering over his savior with a distraught air about him. This unknown scientist caked in dirt spat at the ground those soldiers stood above in spite. He liked his attitude.

"Rude, weren't they?" Karkat finally spoke, his booming voice making the man jump and turn back towards him. Red met blue and Karkat couldn't help but stare. They looked so much alike. A doppelganger of his close friend. After what seemed like hours of silence, the man sighs, glancing away. He looked ashamed of himself, as he probably should. Being saved by some stranger as immature churls (that were trained to protect his ass) beat him mercilessly and laughed it over, that's pretty embarrassing. For both men, actually.

"Yeah. Fuckerth didn't even have a reathon too do it, either." Oh god he has a lisp. Not so obvious as Seoul's accentuation of the letter I, but very different. He couldn't help but crack a smirk. And this man caught it almost immediately, lowering his head in shame. Karkat at least looked obviously Prospitian, donning a single golden ring. Although it wasn't apparent, his back donned the golden crest of the Cancer sign, while his front bore the Prospitian crest. All tattooed over his light skin in golden ink. Most are marked with similar signs, but in particular, the appearance of a bloody cut marked his collarbone in bright red ink. One thing he hated about his designated birth sign. It was a symbol of his destiny.

The Knight of Blood. A dark knight controlling the ruthless forces of the royal kingdom. Raised like a prince under the king's behest and stolen from his father's arms for training and education since childhood. Now the 25 year old man was a deadly hero to his people, and a mass murderer to this country, as the Manipulator of Rage. The Bard's Cradle. Karkat Vantas. Such an interesting title for this bloodthirsty knight. Whoever this scientist was would probably shake in fear if they knew exactly who he was. Behind his helmet no one knows this face, these eyes. Eyes he shares with his closest friend, The Prospitian Mage of Doom, a soothsayer who spends his day dabbling in the sciences these days. Seoul Captor.

Silence almost awkward erupted between the two, standing there staring at each other as night falls. Finally, Karkat speaks again. "You look like shit." Graceful as ever, Sir Vantas. The tall scientist's eyes are still fixated on the ground he once lay, too ashamed to look up, even as Karkat strives to continue speaking. "Which division are you based in?" Such a simple question left lofting in the distance as the man glances up at him curiously. Finally their eyes meet again and a spark of interest ignites within the shorter man.

"Two." He mutters, fixing his hair to at least look somewhat presentable in front of this man. "Divithion two." Karkat gives a nod, snickering under his breath. He can't help it, that lisp is surprisingly appealing. The man scowls down at him, crossing his arms. Not afraid of his intimidating appearance at all. He's smart to. Useful. Attractive.

Attractive? Oh god.

Interesting choice, Sir Vantas, really. There's bruises all over him, and he has an obvious black eye, not to mention a (cute) lisp. He's a complete wreck, and now somehow he is attractive in your eyes? Hell yes. Karkat was distracted by his own mind just enough to start escorting him back to his home.

"Tho… Who are you, anyway?" He asks, quietly. Even with all of his injuries his voice drips of sarcastic intent. God he's interesting. "Jutht thome random armored athhhole? You a vithitor from Prothpit?" Karkat rolled his eyes. That lisp is still appealing, but he could stand to chose his words at least a little better than he had. He's smart too, already figuring out so much of his knight. "Whath'th your name, anyway?"

"Karkat." He wouldn't dare give his last name. His infamous name as Sir Vantas the Cruel, as some call him in this town. Fuck no. "And your'th?" You couldn't help it. He glares back at his savior and all the man can do is crack a grin, leaving him to growl under his breath and answer him anyway.

"Tholluxth." Ha, why is that lisp still funny? And, naturally his name has an S sound somewhere in it. In fact, it has two. Ha.

So like any chivalrous man, Karkat escorted him to his home, a surprisingly well kept tower in Division two. He would have asked more about the situation, but the curfew hour drew near. Obviously, he would have to return to his chambers soon. The Bard does not have any sense of patience since losing his mind to the drug called peace, after all.

They said their farewells, but he felt those blue eyes bore into the back of his skull as he left, to the dark brown locks, slightly curled in the sudden humidity of this particular location. His intrigue grew as he glanced back to find him still there, still staring. Karkat makes a vague note to list where the man lives before an escort pulls around to retrieve him. Time to subdue the Rage before a mass murder disturbs this peace. And to punish those fuckers for even touching one hair on Tholluxth'th—Sollux's, obviously, head.

He needed to stop falling for pitiful idiots he runs into. It's obviously not healthy for him.

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**DawnAtSky  
**


	2. Seeing him again

**So yeah, as a bit of a change to my writing style, these will be in the second POV from now on. Just saying once again.**

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There's something amazingly pathetic about your Bard when it's time to calm him for the night. The roar of anger and confusion, the reddened glare in his bloodshot indigo eyes, staring you down, and the subtle but obvious tug at his chains as the night grows dark. He wasn't always this pathetic. He used to be a normal human, relaxed and calm and peaceful. But the war went on, the war ruined him.

Now he's just a raging monster locked away in a cage wherever his knight may be. Even during the war his calm demeanor betrayed his actions, tearing foes to shreds with their own blades and clubbing their senses right through their skulls. None of the Heroes realized how powerful he truly was, and it was frightening. But it was effective. He was a tool for the war and slowly losing every sense of himself in the bloodbaths he drew.

When the tide of battle changed, he tried to stop. He tried so diligently, until the knight finally stepped forward. You approached him, as you are doing right now, wrapping your arms around him and muttering the weakest shoosh you can imagine. And he stills. He pauses his rage. It's what he needs, as a person. Someone not too terrified of him still to hold him, to mutter calming words and thank him for his strength. To make him feel welcome and appreciated, and to tell him that it's alright to stop now.

And he does. He stops, and his annoyed roars and grunts fade to soft whimpers and hushed breaths. He may have lost his mind, but he didn't lose everything. And as far as you're concerned, he can gain it all back in due time. Maybe enough to not need these disgusting shackles anymore. But for now you settle him down, and he talks to you in a quiet murmur,apologizing. The first times you did this he broke down, clawed at any of your skin he could until you stopped him. And now he still thinks he hurt you, even though his hands are bound to the wall against him.

You regret getting him involved with that war in the first place. There are a lot of things you regret, actually. You regret letting one of your comrades, the Thief, take so much time dwindling down their forces to fill her own sick need for blood. You regret letting that Dersite seer live, but now she's been employed in Prospitian services. You regret letting the Heir convince you to move away from your Mage. You regret falling in love with your Mage in the first place, seeing as how he is one person you will never have.

A few more hours of senseless chats with a subdued Bard and Makara finally falls asleep, curled up in blankets and pillows and laying against his container. You don't waste any time taking yourself from that position and retreating to your own chambers for the night. There's a letter from Seoul waiting on your bed, but it's you'll read that tomorrow. While he sends letters regularly, you make sure have to time to accurately respond to each and every one. You shed your armor and bulky clothing and climbing into your comfortable bed. It's another early morning tomorrow, punishing the soldiers for their impudence and irresponsible behaviors towards the peace.

Maybe you'll stop by the division two research labs to find that scientist.

You'll have to be careful about your visit, though. He wouldn't even dream of accepting a single thing from the General. So instead you consider some casual clothing. It will have to wait, unfortunately. As you spend the hours of the morning punishing your soldiers and visiting the Witch, you think of things to say to him. You almost completely forget about Seoul's letter, which you spend lunch brooding over. Captor's looking for a Prospitian mate for his brother. Apparently they were separated at birth and brought to the two kingdoms of Skaia. One more thing that merits no explanation from those above the chain of commodity. Just a circumstance in the world.

You didn't even know he had a brother. Or at least you don't remember him speaking of the guy. Someone in Derse who's related to him… Interesting. He would obviously be held to some regard, perhaps his identity must be hidden almost as well as yours. Perhaps he's a Mage just like Seoul. You want to meet him. After setting aside some notes for your response, of which you will write out later.

Back in your room, you once again relieve yourself of the heavy armaments, pulling on a simple long-sleeved shirt and grey pants, of which usually cling to your skinny legs just right. It's something simple and devoid of color, and that's a benefit to you. While their graceful Sylph, who spends her time practically as a slave the thief stole away, obsesses over fashion (you speak to her often, she's not that bad.) you wouldn't have it any other way.

Before you take off you bid farewell to the Bard in his chambers, watching him stare out the window and speak of miracles in the purple city, you assure him of your safe return and offer a light smile. He's satiated for the day. Division to is bustling with excitement today, citizens of the combined kingdoms mingling together to shop. No one recognizes you, as it should be, but your intimidating stance draws enough attention. You slip into the Dersite laboratories and the guards barely recognize your bright red eyes.

"Sire, what brings you here?" He speaks quietly, respectfully. You'll have to punish him for that little happenstance later.

"I'm searching for a particular scientist." It's all you tell them before walking off, gaining their curious gaze. You search through at the laboratories, the libraries, and everywhere else you have access to, (Which is pretty much everywhere) and finally when you're about to give up and leave, you hear that familiar voice, calling out to you.

"KK!"

You assume he means someone else, but that lanky, blue-eyed man approaches you from his desk. He was in the middle of research, but somehow he must have recognized you immediately. He's still tall as fuck but in the light you can get a better look at him. Bruised and battered, but he looks well. "Good afternoon, Tholluxth." You can't help yourself. He scoffs and grins at you, but it's a dying joke between the two of you and you both know it. "How are you?"

He shrugs, seeming to look you over before responding. "Fine. I can take a little beating from thothe pathetic athholeth." And now he's showing off. You return to his huge pile of books and chat just a little. He still hasn't told you his last name, and you haven't either, which is fine. But he has given a pet-name. And it's better for the public. "Tho, what bringth you too thith shithole anyway?"

You shrug, but you know exactly why you've come here. To find out about this man, to apologize for your soldier's behaviors the other night. But if you just outright said so you would have to tell him your identity. And that's not something you're planning on. "I figured I could check up on the little beaten puppy I found last night."

"Funny one, KK. Fuck you too." You share a laugh with him and things are alright. He still has research to get through but he accepts your request to join you for dinner tonight. You learn later that it's mostly because those guards you met up with were following you, staring him down to check for any rude behavior.

When you give him the location of your new home he just stares at you quietly. And you wonder why until he speaks up. "A-are you a noble or thomething?" He seems a little intimidated now, too. And you have to either make up some lie or be honest about who you are. It's your chance to confirm your ever-growing suspicions.

"I hail from a dedicated house of Prospit. That's all you need to know." He freezes, staring down to you. "What about you, you're obviously not a peasant yourself."

"How are you tho sure of yourthelf about that? I could be a thlave and thpeaking too me ith bringing down your reputation, thire." Thire. While it's pitiful that he's calling you that right now, it's also fairly endearing that his lisp even denies him of that privilege. "Well?"

"This lab has the highest reputation among all Derse, which makes becoming a researcher here exponentially difficult if you don't have the right connections. You live either alongside or inside one of the main spiritual towers of the capital city, and although you're pathetically tall and covered in disgusting bruises, you're well fed." He seems impressed, but these reasons alone aren't even close to a conclusive response. "What is your surname?" You finally ask, and he lets out an overconfident scoff.

"Tell me yourth, and perhapth I will bethtow thuch a top-clathh thecret unto you." His voice almost drips of sarcasm, and spite of your now revealed noble lineage. Such an overconfident asshole, and it's an intelligent decision to act as such. Be cruel or be tossed away, that's the evolutionary chain in action.

You aren't going to give him a direct answer though. "I asked you first. But since you are just so incessant, I'll have you know that my power was what stopped those soldiers the other night." You figure that he already knew this much, but the look of shock on his face tells you otherwise. And he gapes at you for a while until finally speaking again.

"Are you in the houthe of lordth?" You let a sarcastic laugh slip and he already figured out that it isn't that. He seems to be thinking to himself, staring you down until then. But you repeat that you asked first and he shakes his head, still cocky. "I don't need to thay my pothition to thome random noble. Even a Prothpitian noble such as yourself." He is so stubborn, and your annoyance seeps into your glare. He picks it up, recognizing the agonizingly, almost bloodthirsty, hatred you hide in your visage. Or at least you think he does, because he's backing away and looks intimidated once again.

"Sollux. Your surname." You order. It's the same voice that makes knights keen, that brings even princes to wince. And he swallows uncomfortably before finally answering. Finally confirming your assumptions.

"C-captor… Tholluxth Captor." He mutters his answer, backing off to his books once again. In your realization you drop that venom in your eyes. And staring up at his blue eyes, you calm.

You mumble under your breath about just how you expected it. He only catches his brother's name and he's staring again. Apparently they have kept communications in the last year or so, through letters, like the two of you. "Very well then, Captor." You stand, turning back towards the door. "I'll be expecting you at nightfall. I have business to attend to, however, so..."

"Wait!" He calls, standing up so suddenly it almost causes his stack of books to fall over, but catches them just in time. "KK, you thtill haven't told me your thurname, yet." You are forbidden to speak of it to the public, and you hesitate to even utter a word. Instead, glancing about to find the room empty, you pull the collar of your shirt down just enough, revealing the blood tattoo, making it seem almost like an accident. He openly gapes at you, not knowing what it meant until the gears in his mind begin to turn once again. You're a blood hero. The only blood hero.

You are the knight of blood, and you just revealed that little fact to him. As soon as he grasps that little concept, you see the color drain from his face in disbelief. "I would appreciate that you not speak of this to anyone, Sollux." He looks you in the eyes, but it's almost like he really isn't looking at anything. He seems a little conflicted, not knowing whether or not to trust you anymore. You expected it to happen, and you can't blame him for being afraid of you. You're a scary man, after all. "Those men would have killed you that night. Now you can repay your debt to me." You don't wait for a response, you turn away and hide your disgusting mark before you leave the lab. Out of all the Dersites, one now knows exactly who you are.

You wonder if he'll even show up tonight.

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**Aww, KK don't beat yourself up about it. He's probably just afraid of you and he'll show up. Don't worry so much. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy these, I really liked making up the AU, it was fun. 0u0**

**DawnAtSky**


	3. Purring

**Shorter chapter than usual today, guys, sorry! But I'm in-between writing, like, five or so stories right now, I'm just uploading them currently. Someone asked how Seoul's name would be pronounced, it would be pronounced Soul.**

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You find that daytime rests are never beneficial. There are always night terrors, whenever your slumber takes place. After writing up a proper response to Seoul, and requesting that he tell him brother not to reveal your identity, you though a short nap before dinner would ease your worries. Yes, even a warrior who's bathed in the blood of thousands such as yourself can wake up in a cold sweat and pray to the ephemeral for a release.

Until the maid at your door annoyed you with their incessant knocking. "Sir Vantas, are you well?"

Groaning, you stand and open the door yourself. Little Nepeta Leijon stood at the door, her uniform neat and clean, and her bright green eyes and thin brows skewed in concern. Poor rouge, a long-time Dersite hero. She gave up her position in the war for an early marriage, to care for the ill at home. Then during the invasion she took up her deadly claws and was immediately struck down. Her husband, Heir to the farthest duchy in the House of Lords, disappeared. While Nepeta remains forcefully divorced and forced to be a servant in the land she fought to defend.

You took pity on her when you found the girl, took her in, gave her meaningful work. Kept her away from Vriska. Once the bard escaped from his chains and struck at her. You still haven't forgiven him for harming the girl. It's a vast pity you can't comprehend fully, but her apathetic smile when you apologize is at least something. She's still a strong woman, and she can handle her heart well.

You aren't in love with her, at least not like she is with you, but you're extremely fond of her. Love is still a close synonym. She looks so worried, even as you let her in to gather your sheets and talk about the new stray kitten she found in the courtyard. Like usual you'll let her keep it, she absolutely loves cats. When you're finally changed out of your night clothes and calmed enough to talk normally she asks what's wrong so freely. "Karkitty?" You hate that nickname, but you'll let it slide. You always do. "Did you have ano-furr night terror?"

"Bloodbaths never looked so clean." You mutter, pulling your collar up to cover the aspect mark. You glance back only for a moment to catch her frowning towards you, which pulls into a false smile when she notices. "I was expecting a guest. Alert me when a scientist from Division two arrives." Simple orders. Aside from cleaning duties and the occasional trip to the city you don't complicate her work. Alerts, watches on Gamzee, and wake up calls.

You leave her to her work as you march to the ablution chambers for a quieting bath. The hot water helps you settle your mind and the flowery bath salts wipe the images clean from your mind. You stare down at your chest, the golden crest on Prospit cursing your entire existence with lavish upkeep and the title of noble. You're beginning to both hate and love peace.

Half an hour passes in silence and you've just about fallen asleep in the warmth surrounding you when Leijon calls for you once again. She knock on the door quietly and peaks it open, letting her emerald eyes show, staring up at the ceiling like the innocent girl she's not. "Karkitty, your guest has arrived. They picked on him a little." Meaning they tried to beat him again as he arrived. Lovely, more things you'll have to apologize for. "Shall I escort him to your chambers?"

You let out a tiny scoff, messing with the bar of soap you've successfully dropped on your stomach. You know that sending him right to the table will raise questions, and Nepeta's has her own duties, so staying there to watch him won't be a better option. She's exceedingly smart to already know the best course of action. "Yes. And bring the tea in as well."

"Na-furr-ally!" She fakes a purr, before entering the chamber without asking. She sets down some casual clothing and bows, leaving to follow your orders. You wonder why she puts up with you. If she asked, you would let her go, and move her to a safer place. It's at that point that you remember her not-so-obvious love for you. It's something you can't, won't return. While you treat her right, and she can connect to you as a person, you two don't see eye to eye on anything. She likes cats, you prefer dogs. She enjoys a soft, herbal tea, while you prefer a fruity variety. You hate how the war ended by your hands, and by the calming powers you hold over Gamzee, and she praises you for it.

You spoil her and keep her safe, but you won't love her back. Not in that way.

You finish the hour washing yourself, running hot water through your hair and down your unscrubbed back, and wrap a towel around your frame. It's then that a curt knock sounds at your door. "What, Nepeta?" You call. Is this her telling you about the tea, saying what variety she specifically chose for you? A deeper tone sounds from behind the door and you scowl.

"Tho that wath her. Nice to thee the rouge again after thuch a long time." You're pleasantly surprised. That lisp means Sollux, as you're assuming. You pull on your undergarments and stare at the clothes Nepeta brought. Oh gods, it's this outfit. No, a million times no. She always chooses this one. You tighten the towel around your waist and open the door. Sollux's eyes widen, staring down at you from his height.

Your crests could almost shine compared to him. Nothing's changed, he arrived here from the lab as you guess, his clothes are cleaner, and he looks much more presentable like this. Still has multiple bruises and a black eye. He sputters a quiet apology and rushes back to his cleared off seat, still staring at you. Taking in your scar-ridden form, muscles, and the general regal appearance you seem to exude. He takes in your strong back and the cancer sign etched across your back in gold. You pull on some loose clothing and drop the towel on your head, situating yourself on the golden couch with a relaxed plop. Rubbing the water dry, you finally say something.

"You're late." You're right, it's a few hours past dinner, but you spent that hour cleaning. You were sure that he wouldn't even show. You stare back up at him and he slouches in his seat.

"I wath held up by the guardth again. They didn't do anything, jutht thtared and inthulted me until I told them you were exthpecting me." Seeing him relax, he glances to the glass of tea by him on the table. You give a low acknowledging grunt before picking up your own glass, breathing in the scent of cherries. "Ath it turnth out, telling people you're being thummoned by the imperial general getth them to shut up really quick."

He's laughing now, but a single glare pulls him to a complete silence. You expected as much, that he would tell others of being an acquaintance of a cutthroat war leader. He would take full advantage of that. Your letter to his brother is much too late. Taking a deep sip from your glass, you let the warmth calm you. No, you aren't going to say anything about it. You're enough of an adult to allow such discretions. "So, they're still refusing to show the proper respect."

Sollux makes a thoughtful shrug, taking a drink of his tea finally. He seems to enjoy it, but only mildly. Everyone hates your fruity tea selections. Whatever. "Rethpect? Thir, with all due rethpect I'm a child of Derthe. They're going to treat me like shit." He was right, but it's not like that's any excuse for improper manners. Just two years and the prospect of peace is ridiculous.

You and your esteemed guest are finally together for a dinner meal. There's one benefit to today.

You summoned dinner, which Nepeta, as usual, very clearly obeyed. She seemed overly happy today, something she does when there's something wrong, or something she doesn't want to talk about. Perhaps it's about Sollux? You've had a sneaking suspicion about his ranking, compared to his brother's. Was Seoul the only mage in their family, or… Dinner distracts you from your thoughts. It's something light, but extravagant at the same time. Something that's perfectly acceptable to eat in your room. Sollux seems to have no complaints about it, either.

As for Nepeta, you dismissed her for the night, but she assured that she'd be needed after the meal. So she stood by the door and waited. No one talked at all during the small meal, Sollux seemed distracted, Nepeta was disdainfully silent – considering her usual enthusiasm, it's an unusual change in pace—and Karkat wasn't going to be the one to break that quiet moment. Being the one in the most power, you intimidated both of them; you were the one they both feared. So naturally you didn't want to start any conversations.

And with that, dinner ended and Nepeta took everyone's plates. Sollux murmured a quiet thank you and Nepeta re-filled your glass of tea before heading to the door. "Leijon?" You stopped her dead in her tracks, she even jumped and everything. You can cut the tension with a rusted over knife at this level.

"Yes Karki- Yes, sir Vantas?" Good, she caught her own slipup. No Karkitty business in front of guests. You still have a reputation to keep up. "How may I assist you, sire?"

You let out a small sigh, taking a sip of tea. She placed her plates on the tray before returning to your side, bowing to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You swear you see Sollux cringe at the sight. "I'll see to it that your new companion is attended to. I'll place the order for a new collar immediately." You sneak a glance for her reaction, from confused, to shock, and then to an overbearing happiness that she still tries to hold back.

She almost squeaks a little, thanking you a little. You wave her off and she's free for the night. As she leaves, you keep your attention on the time. It's almost sundown.

The door closes and everything's quiet again. A light, nervous laugh reminds you of your guest. Sollux's earlier half-worried expression seems to have faded into a light smile. An eyebrow quirks up at him before he laughs again, returning to his tea. "The knight of Indigo horrorterrorth showing thuch care and compathhion to a lowly maid? I'm impressed, KK."

You offer him a scoff, waiting for him to take another sip before speaking up. "It's the least I can do for killing her husband." And he almost spat his tea right back out, and even though that joke was in bad taste, you have to really hold back a chuckle.

He called you KK again, and not 'thir'. If there's any reason for the tiny grin on your face right now, that would be it.

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**WOOT NEW CHARACTER ASFENKLSD!**

**Bluh. Anyway, the chapter's a little shorter than usual, but I am writing, like, four of five stories right now. So, yeah. There's that. Also, I got a question about how Karkat didn't obviously recognize and make the connection that Sollux was Seoul's twin brother. It's because Seoul never told him he even had a brother.**

**DawnAtSky**


	4. Enraged melody

**Can't stop, won't stop!**

* * *

"Sire, I hate to interrupt, however your lordship has fallen out of line once more."

You hate hearing those words. You hate hearing that there's been a mess, especially with you and Sollux spending the evening together once again. Yes, you've been asking for his return quite a bit lately, and your superiors always questioned why. Sollux, however, seems to have made the safe confines of your abode his second home, as it were. He's more comfortable and trusting than he has been for several evenings.

You have both learned a great deal more of each other in the meantime. About your childhoods, your likes and interests. Everything. Everything you could say, at least. There is some information that is best left to the breeze, after all. Gods forbid he know of your affair with…

Nevermind. Back to the matter at hand, you offer a sigh and go to your blades. Sollux seems tense, maybe he can already tell of this emergency.

Gamzee. Your charge. He's probably escaped his chains, freed himself from the room once more. "Stay here." You order both the attending knight and Sollux. You knight remains outside the door as you lock and secure the room. "Where was he seen last?"

"The dungeon." He mutters, taking his place at your door. "Sir, might I make an inquiry on your gues-"

"You shall not move, and the only servant allowed in these chambers is Leijon if she so chooses. Do NOT enter the room, or I shall have your head." He understands in a matter of seconds, as you stomp off to go calm your errant charge before he begins killing imprisoned Dersites. Your walk is a short, uninterrupted one, as you walk to the dungeons the sour smell of blood paints the stale air. Damnit!

Gamzee's in the civilian block, there's already three dead. Soon to be four if you don't stop him.

"I WILL END YOU!"

"Please! Stop!"

"GAMZEE!"

Your voice booms, echoes from the walls like a poltergeist. Gamzee stills, glaring back at you with crazed eyes. Your hand's fixed to the scabbard of your blade, courageous as ever. He drops the prisoner with his tall height. He's been getting so much taller. He looks like his father, from what you know of that horrifying man. Gamzee's long unruly hair is matted with blood, his face shows the rage he has all but built up in the coming days.

It's painful sight. His captives slowly inch away, while he turns and stomps toward you. He's unreadable, it's always been this way. As he hovers above you just enough, there's still terror in the air.

"I told you to stay in your chamber, Gamzee. Now look what you've done!" You glare up at him, scolding him like a child who's broken a lamp with his play. Gamzee twitches, not taking very well to the harsh tone. "You had better have a good explanation for this, Bard."

"Had to…" He mumbles, slouching. "Had to, knight. Had to all up 'n cleanse'm." He slouches ever more, and as expectantly, you reach your arms up to cup his cheeks. You're careful, stroking his blood-spattered cheeks as you shoosh him. The tension seems to settle for a split second. His voice raises, and you don't even flinch. "Had to MOTHERFUCKING ERASE THEM!"

"No." You shoosh him once again, stroking his cheek. It's almost as if you're smoothing the tension away with each light touch. "They aren't the enemy. We've destroyed our enemies already."

He whines, a sign of weakness, of something pure. A hint of the Gamzee Makara you so miss.

"You've done enough already, Gamzee. This war is over."

You signal in the others outside their chambers, who flinch and hold their tongues at the carnage. Some approach and a flash of rage returns to his visage. Your glare stills their approach, and they instead go to return the prisoners to another room. The victims are left there for now.

You have at least the rest of the day to spend calming your bard. He desperately needs a bath and clean clothes. He needs some time away from the chains. He needs sleep, too. You ensure of his calm before leading him back. Your tub is big enough for him, and your bed should do nicely.

"Brother… I sense Castor and Pollux in the walls." Gamzee's muttering is usually something you ignore. He murmurs, or apologizes, or sings in that grumbled tone. Castor and Pollux. The twin saints of the origin of Gemini. That's Sollux's marking. He can sense their air, and thus sense Sollux's presence?

Sollux… That's right, Sollux is still there.

You've never been one to cast suspicion on his keen perception to the gods. It's too much useless work. "Ignore them. They aren't here to breathe doom unto our home." He hums, letting you lead him to your block. The soldier outside of your door is, incidentally, still there. As soon as he sees the taller man he cringes, stepping aside to let you in.

"Oh, there you are KK, where di-" You can literally see the terror spread on his face. It seems that Nepeta has also been through the room, she left some food for Sollux. He curls up against his seat and you send a glare to Gamzee.

"Bath." It's a stern enough order, one that he hesitantly follows with your repeated command. He's slow to walk to your bathrooms. You glance back at Sollux, who's still curled up on the couch. You're slow to approach him, but you have to ease his mind somehow. "He won't cause trouble."He stares back up at you, highly doubting your words. "Nepeta will escort you out if that's what you want."

You have other people to assist. Gamzee's finally stripped out of his bloodies clothes and he's just sitting in the empty tub, waiting for you and shivering. Fool.

You don't talk, even as you draw his bath. He's tense once again, even as the hot water fills around him. Halfway full and Nepeta knocks on the door to drop off a bigger towel and some fresh clothing for Gamzee. She must have been alerted ahead of time to his escape. She knows you almost too well. Before she leaves, you stop her at the door. "Nepeta, could you escort Sollux back home? I'll need the room cleared.

"Okay then Karkitty!" She's still smiling. Before you saved him from Gamzee she was just as terrified of Gamzee as Sollux is. It's refreshing to see her attitude change so much. She leaves to escort him home, and you get to work on the whimpering mound of hair and rage in your bathtub.

* * *

"Nepeta, where are we going exactly?"

"Out."

Her tone is completely different. The pampered little maid's typically uplifting voice was deep and pained. As you both left the city walls, you couldn't help but keep curious of her intent. The scare with the horrorterror was enough for one night, she shouldn't keep this walk so ominous. Surrounded by trees, Nepeta finally slows. You've arrived at a small graveyard, a very familiar sight to behold.

She was always so happy here. Your Maid.

The graveyard hasn't been cleaned in such a long time. You make a silent oath to return here in the morning to clean the graves. But for now your curiosity it getting the better of you. "I remember thith place well." So nostalgic. "Aradia loved the flowers that grew nearby here."

"I miss her." She mumbles, leaning to brush some leaves off of her grave. "I miss her so much."

"Nepeta, why did you bring me here?" You kneel against the grave yourself, brushing away the dirt on the cobblestone. "It'th too dark to clean the graveth."

"Don't you miss Derse?" She mumbles. She's going to get her dress dirty kneeling in this place. "Derse is gone, Sollux. Don't you miss it at all?"

"Do you?" She nods. "Well, mithhing it or not, we're the Thkain empire now. The Empreth hath already thanctioned our land."

"She doesn't belong on the throne." Silence. You can barely hear her, but she's shaking. "That empress is cruel, Sollux. Our heiress you fit the throne so much-"

"Woah woah! Nepeta. Quiet over there. Do you _want_ to be exthecuted for high treathon?" She's silent once again. There's something on her mind, it's written all over her face. "What in Yaldabaoth'th coilth ith the matter? You're with Karkat, he'th taking great care of him!"

"But he won't let me see Equius!" She snaps, glaring up at him. Anger flushes her cheeks, pouting at the taller man. "The Thief, she said it's _her_ fault! I want her gone just as much as Feferi does!" You're more than surprised. And a little burdened. You know why she isn't allowed to 'see' him, and where he is exactly.

"Nepeta…"

"I want your help, paw-lux!" She stands, smoothing out her dress. "I'm not alone, we can oust that imperial taffer and return some autonomy to Derse. We can rise up against her!" She seems so hopeful, her smile is back finally. You understand exactly what she means and what she wants you to do…

She wants your help to start yet another meaningless war. A war that warps more minds, the separates you from your brother still, maybe even going against the horrorterror and his keeper. Against your close friend. You don't want to fight Karkat. You don't want to go against him.

You don't want to invite another doomed fight for the proud, regal Derse. In fact, you want nothing to do with it at all. This is peaceful, as far as it can be. You're tired of being ostracized for your place in a doomed destiny. You stand, wipe the dirt off of your newly-bought clothing, and clear your throat.

"Nepeta, take me home."

* * *

**Ooooh!**

**Yes, I'm still continuing this story. As a fanfiction, I enjoy writing what I want to write. And I like how this story is panning out for me.**

**Also, as a reference to Pollux and Castor, the denizens are considered as Skaia's gods, with Yaldabaoth being the main god of creation. After the denizens are the saints, with such being Pollux and Castor as the saints of Gemini. It's all complicated stuff, you see?**

**Anyway, they're just a small part of the story. I hope you continue to enjoy this story, everyone!**


	5. The Knight's shackles

**And I'm still writing for this! I just can't get this AU out of my head man, I just can't.**

* * *

At least half an hour in, and your bard is murmuring sweet notes once more. The water's still hot and comforting, and you're almost done working shampoo through the mess of tangles. His head's against the wall of the bath, and there's even a smile on his face, reminiscence of the olden days. After making him sit up and rinsing out the mess, you're completely silent.

It's nice, your charge is calm and singing the clearest little notes you've heard from him in months. If not for his mental instability you would order the chains to never again be used. You'd order his freedom. But his rage can't be permanently satiated after so much bloodshed. This was your life now, wandering around in a boring peace, training, and caring for him. If only Sollux filled more of your time, maybe then you could be satisfied.

At times like this you miss your Mage dearly. You miss his touch, his honey-sweet voice, that nasally laugh he gives. But he's wed already. His wife needs him now much more than you. Cleaning Gamzee's back and front, you take your time to drown in your thoughts. Gamzee seems to understand enough. He cares enough to not stop singing, or moving at all.

You were already soaking wet, a little time to consider it and you re-filtered the water in the tub, strip down, and joined him. He just smiles and moves over for you. No matter how much instruction you could offer you, doubt he'd have it in him to wash himself. You finish with that chore before focusing on yourself.

It's warm. Gamzee seems so full of life right now, running his hand along your golden mark, down your back and up again in a gentle massage. You sigh and lean against him, allowing his powerful arm to wrap around your waist. "You're more trouble than you're worth, Makara." You mumble, aching muscles relaxing against him.

He laughs. Thinks it's a joke. Idiot. There's a reason why you'd never take him as your mate. He's a friend, and a charge, never a lover. You two stay in the warmth until a knock interrupts your calm. Another maid bringing by reports you have to file, from what she says. Signing apology letters for the victim's families, and also reporting that the higher ups want the Bard back in chains by the time the sun rises tomorrow morning.

You send her off with a glare, and drain the water finally.

* * *

A few hours and your work is done, Gamzee's peacefully asleep on your bed. You've also heard of Nepeta's return, but she's too tired to come wish you a good night. Not that it matters any, she's had enough work today. You, of course, have been up to your knees in reports, and your hand hurts from writing already.

Another letter to check. Oh! That familiar golden sheen does bring some hope, however.

Seoul. Hopefully with some good news.

Enough waiting around, the letters are complete anyway. You enthusiastically open his letter, removing the golden flower he typically sends with good news. You'll have to send an indigo bloom with your response.

_Dearest Knight, _

_Our family has been assured of its' next of kin, however I still cannot find solace in passing your empty tower. It's been at least two years, has it not? Once again, I've found research taking up too much of my precious time. If only I had the means to come see you more often._

_However, there is news from the south. Discussion of an unruly variety, or at least whispers of such. But that is for a later time, a date in which I eagerly assume a visit to reason. I shall send my blessings to the Breeze for this opportunity._

_I do hope your Bard has been kept in line, the Paige often writes of his worries over Makara's condition. From your last letter, it seems as though nothing has changed. I wonder if that truly is fortune biting at our toes or an unsettled storm brewing in its' wake. I trust you will be able to handle him._

_How is my brother? I do hope he hasn't taken advantage of his powerful acquaintance. Sollux is quite the presumptuous taffer if you allow such. _

_I miss you dearly, my friend. _

_Your Mage._

You miss him too. It's been way too many months since his last visit. Maybe he's grown? Is his hair still the same? You pull out a book from your pile, dusting off the cover as you press the shimmering flower into the pages. You'll keep it just like the rest. Oh, there are so many flowers by now.

Another visit is all well and good, but his hidden message of "news from the South," is more than troubling. Something's happening in Derse. Something you'll have to investigate personally. You should write him back, and explain the news with Gamzee. This is something he should know; maybe it's connected in some way.

Fine then. Your arm is not going to thank you after all of this.

* * *

It is around the time to return Gamzee to his chambers, you can both tell he isn't pleased with this. Having to help feed him wasn't fun in the slightest, and he insisted you fed him the "miraculous elixir" as he called it. It's just over sugared water with some fruits mixed in; it's nothing special in the slightest. The idiot loves it though, who could deny him his pleasure? Returning to his chambers, you see the typical shackles untouched. Either they changed them recently, or…

The wall has absolutely no indents in sight. No new cracks or any sign of a struggle. You try asking Gamzee, but he's completely silent, enjoying his last few moments of being almost completely free. You move his bed back over to its' place, make his bed and let him stand by the window and stare out.

"Seoul may be coming for a visit." You mumble. He gives you an empty glance, and scoffs. You could never once figure what his problem with your childhood friend is. He never elaborates on why he's so negative toward him. "Something big seems to be happening. No more escapes, Gamzee. You've been doing so well lately."

"Fuckin' churls." He mumbles. "Maybe they'd keep 'im away."

'Him?' "Who exactly do you want to keep away now?" you ask, sitting down on his bed.

"You ain' stupid, Knight. Y'know I can't fuckin' stand 'im." Ah. Seoul again. You find it in you to roll your eyes, trying to ignore it. He seems to be acting up a little, so you order him by your side. It takes a few tries, but as soon as you can, his arms are shackled to the wall once again. "'e hurts you…" That's about all you can make out from him rising grumbles. Locking his freedom away once again, you're determined to stay by his side until he's calm once again.

* * *

This is an unusual sight, if anything. That polished steel shield isn't one of yours. No, this knight in your presence is none other than **him**. The last living hero of Time. He's unarmed, but those eyes of his glare into your similar ones. Red eyes to match the two Knights of Skaia. An underling of yours announces his presence like it was actually something you cared to know of. Sir David Strider- which he corrects to 'Dave,' in a snarky remark.

"Very well then. So what is he doing out of the dungeon?" You ask, glaring at your visitor.

"Sir Strider has been employed by the Seer, as it were. Both of them. He is to be the ladies' official guard."

"Pyrope.." You scoff, drawing your blade. The underling shrinks off into the distance, but Dave doesn't move an inch. He doesn't even seem fazed at your glare. He's expecting your actions. You dash forward; already understand why. He needs training for his new post. Training and a good dash of intimidation so he doesn't step out of line.

You slash down, against his shield and he reacts rather well, putting up a defensive stance to your attack. You hop away and attempt to kick the offending metal away and he follows your movement just as well. He leans back, flicking his leg out to catch yours off balance, thrusting the shield up to block a rather expected strike of your sword. It continues just like that for a good while, blocking your blade, pushing you back, and in many cases almost risking his own death.

Your men watch in awe at the somewhat balanced fight. You assume you have the victory though, he's trapped holding himself up with that pathetic shield of his. One last swipe with your sword and he thrusts his shield up once more, tossing it upwards strong enough to throw both items from your hands. Only a second passes, and although you struggle, he pins you underneath his lightened form. This fight is as good as over.

He grins, showing the most emotion you've seen of him yet, and a growl emanates from your throat. You just want to smash his face against that polished shield of his. The soldiers surround the two of you and he lets up, the edge to his glare gone for now. "Heh. Still got it." The nerve of this idiot!

Disgraceful moron doesn't even bother thanking you for your training. Not like you wanted that at all. Fuck that guy, he can go enjoy his time back at the Skaian Junction. His new prison will be cleaner anyway.

This prison is far too dusty for your liking, too.

* * *

**In which I can't write very good fighting scenes. I tried.**


End file.
